Books about time travel are my guilty pleasure — but there are a few parameters to which they must adhere; the time traveler must travel back in time to Scotland. Only. The hero must be a very tall and muscular warrior and must look stunning in plaid. Or if it is a heroine, she must be beautiful and kind to all but will not be bossed by any man. Oh, and most of the book should be about trying to convince the hero or heroine that their love interest is from the future.
But really, the possibilities of moving through time — it just overwhelms the mind! When would you go, who would you see, what would you say?
I would go back to the late 60’s or early 70’s. The kids I hung around with would go across the border into Canada and go swimming at the dam at Kensington — or was it the bridge that we called it? Anyway — not that’s it’s important to the story — after swimming most of the afternoon or evening away and becoming famished in the process, we would go farther into Canada to Huntington. There was (and quite possibly still is) a greasy spoon called Pevin’s (pronounced pee’-vahns) where they made THE BEST WITHOUT QUESTION hot dogs with chili sauce and french fries smothered with gravy. I would love to taste those again.
I would ask my grandmother and grandfather what their lives were like growing up in the early 1900’s. I would also ask them what their parents were like, and their grandparents. And I would then write it down for my daughter and her daughter, so as not to lose the history, which unfortunately, has been lost. I would go through all of the pictures that were in a big box in a bedroom at my grandparent’s and write on the back who they were and how they would be related to me.
steal borrow without intent of returning the picture that hung in Nanny’s living room of our great-grandmother for my sister. Sissy looks like her and I know that she would love it. I hope it fits in the time machine.
I would visit the places of my childhood of which I have fond memories, and I would be sure to take pictures of those places to remind myself that there were good times in my past. Sledding and skating in the winter, swimming at Meacham Lake and Pine Ridge Park in the summer, going to the farm with Grandpa, sitting with Nanny on the sun porch and smelling her Here’s My Heart perfume. Sitting by the wood stove in the kitchen, puddling in the pantry sink with Sissy, sitting with Grandpa and watching Walt Disney on Sunday night. Back then, walking to the store was fun, although it seemed like a much longer walk when I was little. Shorter legs back then, y’know.
Yeah, time travel is still not possible — hang onto all the memories that you can, because you can’t go back and re-experience them!! Write it down, take pictures, talk to the people that are important before they are gone. They are your time machine.
So what’s your time machine? If you have a story that you would like to share, click here for Sunday Scribblings.